


moving forward, using all my breath

by marriottsmushrooms



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emetophobia, Hurt/Comfort, James and will being gay, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, This is pretty short and shitty but that's life ig, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 05:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marriottsmushrooms/pseuds/marriottsmushrooms
Summary: James' hand rests heavy on Will's back, just between his shoulder blades, and it's somewhat comforting as he lets his body take over to try and repel the sickness he's come down with.





	moving forward, using all my breath

**Author's Note:**

> I must be the queen of sickfics at this point
> 
> Swear that one day I'll write something else but this one called to me and I knew it was my time
> 
> I swear I don't have a vomiting kink
> 
> Cheers for the support  
> Got a James/George smut on the way promise

Will breathes in heavily, trying to deplete the feeling of nausea that has settled deep within him. He swallows down the newfound lump that blocks his throat, and coughs slightly. It doesn't seem to interrupt the conversation, as George and Alex natter on next to him, Fraser and James butting in occasionally. This was supposed to be a nice evening out, a chance to catch up before Alex flies off to god knows where, Will reminds himself, yet he's here, wishing he was anywhere else.

He looks down, and lets out a shaky breath when he sees how much is left on his plate. He's hardly touched it, yet he knows it's out of character for him to eat so little, and if he leaves it like this, the others will know that something is up. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to ruin this evening.

He drags the fork across the plate, gathering the leaves and prodding at them. Even thinking of swallowing down another mouthful makes his stomach turn.   
He knows the other boys aren't focused on him, he can hear the clink of their glasses and the scrape of their cutlery against the plates, and Will wishes he could do the same.

He feels a foot knock against his shin under the table. He knows it's James'. He looks up, and James' eyebrows are furrowed in worry. He shakes his head slightly, and looks back down, trying to tell James he's fine, trying to deplete the other man's worries.

In order to try and show James he's okay, and to settle any concerns any of the others might have, he shoves another forkful of food in his mouth. He doesn't even chew before he regrets it, but weary of James' watchful eye, he slowly chews and reluctantly swallows.

He knows it won't stay down, and his breath catches in his throat. The last thing he wants to do today is throw up. He sinks his teeth into his lip, his hands clutching each other in his lap.

He looks at James' lips, and reads them as he asks if Will is okay. Will averts his gaze, breathes in deeply, and shakes his head. He stands up, and watches as the others look at him. He turns, and instantly heads towards the toilets.

He doesn't process the many heads that turn his way, the mumbles of concern, doesn't even start to consider what his friends must be thinking. All he can focus on is the tightness of his chest, the panic that's crawling up this throat as if to eat him from the inside out.

His hands push out in front of him, and he can just about make out the bathroom door through his tears. He pushes it open, and hurries into a cubicle, fumbling to lock it behind him. His hands move quickly to press against his temples, and his breaths come out sharp and raspy. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want this at all.

He sinks to the floor, tipping his head back so he's staring at the ceiling. It's tiled, he notes, clutching at anything in order to distract himself. He knows it's coming, he knows it's inevitable, but he takes deep breaths as he tries to stop it. He knows he can't.

The tears well up again, and then he hears the door creak open.

"Will?" It's James, and Will reaches up with whatever strength me can muster, and desperately fumbles for the lock on the cubicle door. He needs someone here to help him through this. "I'm gonna come in, okay?"

James squeezes into the cubicle, and locks the door behind him. Instantly, he moves down to take Will into his arms. James notes that Will's eyes are glossy, tears threatening to spill from his waterline.

"James, I don't want to, don't want- James," he murmurs, his hands clutching at James wherever he can, his arms, his shirt, his legs.

James shushes him, sliding his hand into Will's hair gently, and looking him in the eyes. He's tense, James notices, his grip tight and his teeth gritted.

"I've got you, alright? I know you don't want to do this, but if it happens, I've got you. I'm not leaving."

Will nods, his throat dry. James brushes the tears from his eyes. Will gasps for air, all shaky breaths and fumbling hands, before leaning over the bowl, staring into it with a blurry gaze and feeling like he's about to fall in.

James' hand rests heavy on Will's back, just between his shoulder blades, and it's somewhat comforting as he lets his body take over to try and repel the sickness he's come down with. The tears don't stop and Will wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. His breaths come quick and sharp, and James hums soft reassurances every time Will's grip on his arm tightens and he gasps.

It isn't long, though to Will it feels like hours have passed, before he decides that he's done here, and he wants to go home. His knees ache, and his head even more so. His throat feels rubbed raw, and his eyes are sore from rubbing at them. James kisses his face gently, and wipes at the stray tears hanging on his cheeks. He shushes Will's sniffles, and helps him stand up slowly. Then, James bundles Will into his arms, and holds him, rocking him gently.

"It's alright. It's over now, love. It's alright. Lets get you home, yeah?"

Will nods, and swallows.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Keep them prompts coming lads


End file.
